


Bad For Business

by gwendy1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP Sexstars Fest, M/M, Multi, Prostitution, Sex Tape, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-08
Updated: 2011-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-27 02:31:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwendy1/pseuds/gwendy1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For prompt: Draco/? – He whores himself because he can, and because he's sick of all the pureblood rules – sit this way, ten ways to properly bow to the minister and foreign dignitaries, the proper way to eat soup at a formal banquet - and because it brasses his parents off. But mostly, he whores himself because he really likes sex.</p><p><i>What’s the wizarding version of a sex tape? Neville and Draco are about to find out when theirs is the first to reach the public, just in time for the holidays.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad For Business

**Author's Note:**

> Written for serpenscript's prompt in the [HP Sexstars Fest](http://hp-sexstars.livejournal.com).
> 
> serpenscript, I hope you enjoy this! ♥ It was a lot of fun to write and I finally got to use a plotbunny that had been hopping around in my brain, so thank you. Also, massive THANKS go to Slumber, my lifesaver of a beta; without you, I would probably be tearing my hair out right now.

Draco Malfoy likes sex.

 _Neville’s hands clench on his hips, steadying him through every bouncing lift. Up and down, up and down. Draco jerks with each downward thrust. Pleasure simmers through his increasingly slick and clenching muscles to reverberate outward into his whole body. Every balls-deep plunge is followed by the resounding slap of heated skin. Flushed and panting, Draco slides his hands from Neville’s shoulders to clasp behind his neck and tilts his ass closer, curling into Neville’s body and writhing on his cock as it rubs so perfectly against sensitive nerves._

Draco **really** likes sex.

 _He spreads his knees a little more – stretching them out parallel to the wooden headboard, the heels of his feet no longer using it as leverage but struggling among the sheets – and leans back to put his weight into the shift, rolling his hips a little at the end of the downward thrust. Instead of leaning backwards onto the headboard to balance the weight of Draco’s upper body tugging at his neck, Neville moves forward, smoothing a hand up Draco’s back and into the sweaty strands of hair at the nape of his neck, and dives onto Draco to latch a deep kiss onto his mouth and take over the thrusting. His cock rams home; and Draco’s muscles spasm, causing his leg to kick the bedside table and send one of their wands rolling to the floor._

Actually, ‘Draco Malfoy **_loves_** sex!’ would probably be more accurate.

 _The lit tip of the remaining wand continues to blink away._

After the war, Draco’s parents struggle to improve their family’s image – emphasizing high society values and traditions – and keep up appearances. The war reparations have been hell on their finances, the Wizengamot having sentenced them to fund almost the entire rebuilding effort. No extravagant galas for Mother Malfoy this year.

Not that she hasn’t tried anyway – Draco thinks, with a sneer – discreetly putting the word out that they were in the market to sell one of the Malfoy properties. It chafes him that she’s so desperate to acquire enough to fund at least a year’s worth of elaborate social events. As if any of the elite or well-to-do would have anything to do with their family right now. He is fed up with all of this pretentious shit, and part of him dreads the look on his mother’s face not if but when no one influential or powerful attends, or how humiliated she would be to host a party that no one at all showed up to. Luckily, she’s had no serious offers, just thinly polite responses.

But he wants his luxurious life back, so he becomes a high-priced escort – it’s good money and requires no credentials or references – much to the consternation and aggravation of his parents.

“—said you named prices for various sexual acts, Draco!”

He grimaces. In retrospect, it wasn’t a good idea to try to solicit one of his mother’s friends.

Narcissa hurls her expensive hat into an armchair and storms over to the narrow side table, where a house elf has set up a carafe of their finest alcohol, to fix herself a drink. “I’ll never be able to show my face among that circle again!”

Lucius glances up from his quiet reading by the window. He stares incredulously at Draco, then scowls in disappointment, before vehemently turning away.

Draco winces. His father has been out of it ever since the war, rarely speaking, and tacitly agreeing with whatever his mother says. If he doesn’t know better, Draco would worry that his father had been Kissed by a Dementor. It hurts to realize he can still let his father down.

“Do you not understand how important it is that we raise our social standing?” Narcissa asks, exasperated. “Now how are we supposed to negotiate a favorable bride for you?”

Wait. “What?” Draco’s eyes widen in alarm and his mouth falls slack. No! Absolutely not, he thinks vehemently. “Mother, I’m not settling down yet. I’m not ready.”

She purses her lips and appears about to say something.

He shakes his head. “Besides, the war’s still too fresh in everyone’s minds. If you’re really worried about securing a good marriage contract for me… Mum, you’ll wait.” Draco pauses. “Please.”

Her eyes soften, but her brows come together in a frown. She’s concerned and he appreciates it, he does.

But he’s not going to stop turning the high-paying tricks. The guilty pang in his chest subsides. Because Draco Malfoy **_loves_** sex and he’s been having the most sex he’s ever had.

Several of his clientele work in the ministry and Draco revels in the delicious irony of it. He almost took Daphne Greengrass’ younger sister – whatever her name was – on as a client, but one of his ministry johns had an appointment cancel on them and hired him for an extra hour. It was a fortuitous thing, too, as the young Ms. Greengrass found some other pureblood scion to sleep with and quickly secured ties with the family through a pregnancy. Word was she was desperate to get out of an arranged marriage with someone hideous.

The client that sticks with him, though – the one that really gets under his skin – is Neville Longbottom. The now-famous war hero had been giving him lingering looks all through seventh year, when both of them were struggling to survive in their own ways, and one day, confident and tall, he just waltzed up to whisper in Draco’s ear that he knows what Draco’s been getting up to. It should have worried Draco ...instead of sending a jolt of excitement down his cock.

 _Their arms clutch at each other, pulling the other closer, as Neville continues to vigorously fuck Draco into oblivion. All it takes is one more slam against his prostate for Draco to orgasm with a shuddery moan; he could feel himself wind tighter and tighter around Neville’s cock until, in a rush, the muscles of his ass just seemed to slither wildly along the large cock in ecstasy._

 _“Ah,” Neville cries out, holding him tighter and dipping his head to duck below Draco’s jaw and nuzzle at his neck. The release of Neville’s come surging deep into him gives Draco a warm thrill and stirs his own still lazily spurting cock._

 _Draco lays sprawled out on the mattress, panting beneath Neville, and wonders over the possibility that he’s becoming addicted to this particular client._

 _Neville presses a sweet kiss to the skin of his neck and Draco can’t control the sharp shiver of delight. Oh, sh--_

* * *

“How?” Draco whips around to stare at Neville. “How do you know what I’ve been doing?”

Neville pulls back a bit, some of his confidence fading into a blush accompanied with a sheepish shuffle. “I may have overheard you accepting payment from someone,” he says.

Draco looks him over with both interest and suspicion. So much for the overpriced hotel coming with embedded soundproof charms in the rooms; he wonders how much he heard. Did the Big Brave Neville Longbottom listen to him pound into someone or did he hear someone pounding into him? “So, why approach me?” He asks. “There’s no war hero discount.”

Neville regains some courage, his spine straightening. “I can pay.”

Draco licks his lips, and asks, “You want to?”

They find a room within minutes.

Neville takes enthusiastically to kissing Draco, devouring his mouth with an eagerness that sets him apart from all of Draco’s other clients. He gives him deep, tongue-filled kisses that caress his lips while massaging their tongues against each other. It’s distracting.

Barely remembering his rule to always collect payment first, Draco pulls back and names his prices.

Biting his lip, Neville hesitantly asks, “’S it alright if I transfer the money to your account afterwards?” He toes the floor and runs a hand through his hair. “Thing is: I have enough, just not… on me. I did have enough this morning! But then, with lunch and all… I’m a bit—”

Draco rolls his eyes, but steps forward to grab Neville’s shirt and cuts him off. “Fine. But only because I know you’re too noble to swindle me.” He grins and pulls Neville’s shirttails free of his trousers.

They divest each other of their clothes; that’s another thing he doesn’t do with any of his other clients. Draco chastises himself. He cannot allow any more exceptions – this is a job and Neville should not be getting special treatment. He's going to demand payment up front next time. He skips right over that he’s anticipating a ‘next time’.

Time blurs in a tangle of delicious friction against naked skin and the next thing he knows Neville is flexing his lubed fingers within him and gazing down at him in wonder. Draco shivers with pleasure and clamps a hand onto Neville’s shoulder. “More,” he demands with a moan, shifting his hands to pull Neville down by the back of his neck and initiating a hungry kiss. Neville returns the kiss, clutching desperately at him in an effort to get even closer. Intense need grips Draco, making him frenzied with lust.

When Neville finally slides his beautiful large cock all the way into him, Draco bucks up into his hips. They both groan, deep and satisfied.

Pressed furiously into the mattress with each strong thrust, Draco flings his head back and cries out, “Oh, yes! Neville, yes!” His body jerks and writhes while Neville fucks him hard. Nerves humming, he moans in wild satisfaction.

It’s the **best** sex Draco’s ever had.

* * *

The next time, Neville pays him beforehand, but they agree to meet at his house while his Gran is away instead of purchasing another room for the night.

“You don’t work **for** anyone, do you?” Neville suddenly asks, concerned.

“No,” Draco answers, smirking up at him. “I make the offer, name the price, and the client pays it.” He’s sure Neville understands the excitement of working for oneself; his own wholesale magical plants business is doing quite well. Then again, being a war hero probably doesn’t hurt.

Neville’s eyebrows furrow and he runs his fingers up Draco’s sides, “Isn’t it dangerous, though?”

Draco shrugs. “I don’t have **that** many clients. And I don’t think any of them would risk the scandal.”

Neville frowns, but lets it go.

Later, Draco rocks back onto Neville’s cock, his hands scrabbling at the sheets beneath him and his knees sliding a bit with every thrust. “Uhhn.” It feels so good. Neville’s balls smack against the edges of his hole and the reddening skin of his perineum.

Neville bends over him farther – until Draco can feel his breath tickling at the sweat on his back – and thrusts harder. “Draco. Mmm, yes…”

Panting loudly, Draco insists, “Ah, harder. Harder!” It feels like the mounting ecstasy is going to vibrate him right out of his skin.

* * *

Draco wraps his wet and still faintly soapy legs tighter around Neville. He’s held firmly against the shower wall, absorbing the force of Neville’s deep thrusts. With another two surges upwards into him, Draco’s clenching in orgasm. Neville swallows his moan in a kiss, his own come shooting forcefully inside of Draco.

When Neville’s finished pulling out, Draco revels in the feel of his warm come dripping from his ass and running down his thighs.

Neville grins brightly at him; he smiles happily in return, rubbing his fingers through his own come that decorates Neville’s chest and stomach before it’s washed away with the spray.

* * *

The woman stands austerely in front of the mirror, fastening her robe and straightening the muss of her hair. When she’s done gathering her things, she turns to stare down at him coldly. “I’ll no longer be requiring your services,” she says with a sneer, and one of her eyebrows quirks high above the other. “I am sufficiently satisfied, having gotten what I wanted out of you; I’ll thank you never to approach me in public again.” Her firm tone brooks no alternative.

Then she marches out the door.

Draco huffs, dropping his head back onto the pillow. That old bitch scratched the hell out of his back and she didn’t even tip him!

Later, when he’s healed up nicely and at home lounging in bed, his thoughts drift to Neville. He idly strokes along his skin and down towards his cock, before catching himself and yanking his hand away. Draco wonders if Neville can still smell him on his sheets.

* * *

It’s Goyle that gives him the recording device. His aunt is involved with the company that makes this new technology. It’s the latest thing, starting a craze for wizard playback festivals and the distribution of thousands of copies of recorded material. Draco’s even overheard someone say they think wizards will start developing films and television like the Muggles – though without film or a telly, so they’d be called something else.

He plays with it the first few days, figuring out how to set up the little recording gadgets – triangulated around what you want to record, for a snazzy three-dimensional playback that can be adjusted to any size – and start the process of recording by spelling the charm with his wand, which flashes a light at the end to allow the caster to know when they’re recording.

His tests with it work perfectly. When Draco ends the spell, fits the gadgets together, and winds the crank attached, a small square disk is produced. Another short spell, this time to the disk, and the captured moment is projected. It’s set to life-sized playback. He watches the moment, seeing himself as he lays on his front and lazily tosses a trinket into the air before catching it each time it falls down.

These things record moments that are impervious to tampering, have adjustable playback - easily viewable without sticking your head in a pensieve, and each disk is able to hold a longer span of time than a single collected memory possibly could. Draco decides to see Goyle’s aunt about investing some of his galleons into the new technology; it’s genius and bound to reap him some hefty dividends.

So, naturally, he shows it to Neville.

“It’s fascinating,” Neville says, after studying the way the recorded Draco’s legs swing playfully behind him and one of his hands deftly tossed and caught the trinket while the other supported his jaw.

And it pleases Draco to see him so enchanted with his recorded self.

Neville’s lashes lower and he peeks over at Draco before boldly asking, “Do you want to record something together?”

Draco’s eyes light up and his mouth curves into a wide smirk.

They spend the next handful of hours rolling around the bed and maneuvering themselves into various sexual positions.

For every kiss Neville presses onto his skin—especially behind his knees and on his neck—and every murmured compliment, Draco can feel himself becoming increasingly attached to Neville. Shit; he really shouldn’t be having such fond feelings for a client. And that’s all he is, he tells himself. A client. Spooked, he ends the recording and makes a hasty excuse to leave, then cleans himself up and gathers his stuff on the way out the door.

He picks up the bag of galleons Neville had set aside at the beginning of his visit and makes his exit, only looking back once to smile briefly as Neville watches him go.

* * *

It’s only a couple of days later, after bumping into Luna Lovegood, that Draco finds reason to regret giving his friends access to his personal Floo. He had been somewhat suspicious when, just the day before, he had come home and discovered Blaise waiting for him in his room. After some typical pleasantries and catching up, Blaise had quickly left. Draco didn’t think anything of it; nothing had seemed out of place or missing.

Draco is standing in line at the apothecary and trying to ignore the strange looks he keeps getting. They were probably still sore about his actions in the war.

“Hello, Draco!” An airy voice calls out to him and Draco turns to see Luna standing behind him in line.

He blinks and smiles genuinely at her. Luna’s always been unconditionally nice to him and that can be quite refreshing, if he’s honest with himself. “Luna,” he greets. Apparently they’re on first-name terms.

“Congratulations on you and Neville. You two make very beautiful love together.”

Draco gawks at her, eyes wide in astonishment. “What?”

“I saw your playback,” she says, tilting her head. “Didn’t you release copies? I got mine from Ginny.”

Immediately, Draco knows. Damn it, Blaise!

“It was nice seeing you!” Luna calls after him when he abandons his place in line and dashes away, but he is already halfway out the door.

* * *

There’s nothing to be done, no way to contain it. Everyone he knows will eventually hear that he’s made a sex recording with Neville Longbottom. If they haven’t gotten hold of a copy for themselves, that is. At least they had handled the payment beforehand, though, giving no indication that Draco was an escort.

So he resigns himself to damage control and decides to finally watch it for himself. He's either been busy or just couldn’t bring himself to do so the past two days; this will be the first time he sees what undoubtedly thousands of other people have.

It’s so **sexual** ; it gets him panting just watching it. He starts to tug at his cock, masturbating without guilt because how is he supposed to resist at the sight of Neville fucking him? He can perfectly recall what it felt like – the slick hard flesh sliding into him, the way the muscles of his ass compressed with every pump of Neville’s hips, how sore with pleasure he was after each time and yet still ravenous for more.

It catches, in crystal-clear definition, every moment that they stare into each other’s eyes. The recorded Neville watches Draco’s movements adoringly and is so glaringly thoughtful and considerate, responding to every plea and shifting the angle of his thrusts – every touch an attempt to give Draco the most pleasure he can. And, Merlin, the sound! He hadn’t made much noise during his trial runs in recording, so he hadn’t realized just how excellent the quality of the sound is. But he can hear all of the times Neville’s name pours out of his own mouth, naked emotion bleeding from every syllable. And he can even hear Neville’s whispered words of endearment; before, the volume of his own moans had drowned them out.

The playback is hours of passionate sex and he watches all of it. But it hurts a little to see how obvious they are in their feelings for each other; they’re so **affectionate** , which is exactly what frightened him at the time. Now, he sees himself pulling back after Neville nuzzles kisses against his neck; he can see the sad look in Neville’s eyes when the recorded Draco turns away and he can’t help but flinch in remorse.

* * *

He checks with several of his regular clients to confirm what he already knows. They don’t want his services anymore, let alone to be seen anywhere near him in public.

Draco hurries through the streets absentmindedly, not sure why he isn’t more upset at the turn of events.

He hears the comments of those around him as he strides along, suddenly aware of being the focus of attention. A group of three girls point at him from their seats on the patio of an outdoor cafe and giggle to each other as he passes. “They’re obviously in love with each other,” one of them says.

He blushes and quickens his steps.

A middle-aged man scowls at him as he dashes by.

Draco ignores him and speeds up, anxious to escape their knowing looks.

* * *

“None of my other clients will even acknowledge I exist anymore,” Draco says, rushing past Neville, who shuts the door after him. He continues venting his frustrations aloud. “They want nothing to do with me now that I’ve obviously failed to be discreet.”

Draco faces Neville expectantly, waiting for him to say something—anything—to help Draco justify his coming here unannounced.

Neville scratches at the back of his head, grudgingly admitting, “I’m not exactly upset about that. I didn’t enjoy the thought of you with anyone else.” He runs his hand along a nearby dresser and glances away from Draco. “That’s kind of why I spent so much to keep you all to myself those days.” He smiles shyly. “I like you, Draco. A lot.”

Draco hesitates to label the sharp ache of yearning that urges him forward. It’s possible he may find Neville somewhat… **charming**. And maybe the idea of Draco liking Neville in return is not so impossible. He moves closer, strokes an affectionate hand across the side of Neville’s face. “Have you seen it? They’re passing copies around like candy.”

Neville gulps and places one hand at the small of Draco’s back while running the other slowly up his side. “Yeah.”

Draco shudders, releasing a shaky breath. His skin is heating up and his nerves have begun to tingle with eager expectation. “So hot.”

“Sexy,” Neville agrees, nudging Draco’s body against his own. He reaches into the folds of his robes -- “I just got back from the bank.” -- and lifts a pouch from one pocket, but Draco covers Neville's hand with his own.

“No,” Draco says softly. “Just fuck me.” He looks up at Neville, who smiles in happy surprise.

Afterwards, Neville lays stretched out across his bed, Draco relaxing against his chest.

Draco pauses the movement of his fingertips in their meandering a journey around Neville’s chest and circling one of his nipples. He angles his head up from where it’s pillowed on Neville’s shoulder to listen.

“Hermione made me my copy,” Neville says. “She thought I should know it had gotten out. Also, she said to bring you to come meet my friends.” He hesitates only a short moment before adding, “As my boyfriend.”

Draco grins. “As your boyfriend?”

Bashful, Neville smiles and ducks his head down against his chest before peeking over at Draco. “I would like you to be,” he says, before hedging, “…if you want to.”

Draco rolls over, covering Neville’s body with his own and kissing him hungrily, their mouths sliding together and sucking at each other’s warm tongues. He moans in contentment.

* * *

That night, they meet Neville’s friends to officially introduce Draco as his boyfriend.

Someone at the back of the pub catcalls, eliciting a round of laughter throughout the place, when Neville and Draco walk in. Neville glares and wraps an arm around Draco, steering him towards the side, where his friends surround a magically extended table.

Ginny snickers in glee and leers openly. “Hey, if you two decide to make another sex disk, I'd gladly volunteer to spell the recorder for you!”

“Ginny!” Neville shouts, embarrassed.

He and Draco take their seats between Hermione and Luna.

“Sorry for running out on you the other day,” Draco tells Luna, causing Neville to look over, clearly curious.

Luna smiles indulgently. “Oh, don’t worry. I imagine it was quite a shock to learn that something you probably intended to be private had been released to the public.”

“Right.” He nods. “Thanks for understanding.”

“And it doesn’t really help now that Rita Skeeter has acquired so many copies,” she adds.

Draco’s eyes widen in horror. “What?”

“Oh, my,” Luna says.

Neville squeezes his hand.

Potter stares at them silently in horrified fascination, his face almost completely red. Draco chuckles and wonders how much Potter had seen. Weasley, on the other hand, refuses to look directly at either of them, but he’s blushing anyway and is curiously attentive of Granger throughout the entire evening. Granger, as it were, alternates between flushing in embarrassment and asking questions that toe the line of too much information about their relationship. Neville and Draco both adamantly ignore Ginny’s obsessive observation.

* * *

The next morning, Neville sits down at the table to eat some breakfast.

His grandmother lowers the newspaper in front of her, peering at him from across the table. “So, what’s this ‘Sex Star’ nonsense I’m reading about you and the Malfoy boy?”

* * *

Narcissa gazes at her exquisitely decorated seasonal party. “And after I got such a good deal on that chateau and sent out all those invitations, too. Oh, well. We may not be securing a favorable marriage for you, but we can still improve the family image. I fully expect to see both of you at my winter holiday party.”

Lucius sits at the table, sipping at his cognac and glaring at anyone who tries to come near them in an effort to talk to Neville or Draco. He’s embraced their relationship, glad that Draco’s no longer an escort, and is impressed by his son's ability to snag a war hero; no derisive or mocking comments are getting past him.

“Oh, and do invite your lovely grandmother and any friends, Neville,” Narcissa suggests with a smile. Then, turning to address her son, she says sharply, “Sit up straight, Draco.”

“Yes, Mum,” Draco replies, gritting his teeth, and hoping the somewhat hard chairs were not a deliberate punishment on his mother’s part because that would mean she was all too aware of the reason behind his current discomfort.

Neville smiles at him and smoothes a thumb over his hand underneath the table.

Draco squeezes his hand reassuringly, remembering the hours they spent together before the party. It was completely worth it.

-end-


End file.
